"environs" poems
This disaster by master
Coming faster
An intoxication and
Not a charm
This disaster spread
Like word of honorable pastor
There is a cloud
Dark cloudy cloud of
This disaster
This disaster flirting the environ
This disaster caressing the mammals
In its environs. ..
Oh this disaster a disaster
They fear this disaster like when
Oil castor drops in fire
This disaster pretty nice not
Like pearls in shells of oyster.
This disaster scary to their bones
Take this duster
Rub and wipe this disaster
Please take it!
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
He lets her touch him intimately, without emotion
when in some pretext she is alone,
in his cubicle with him, discussing things inane,
a software environs need not be concerned
some times when she passes through,
her longing crosses limits, these days
it has become frequent, to the extent others to notice.
she found silly excuses, fifth time this morning
but he can't hurt her feeling, a team member valued,
she contributes to his success, as the team leader
He can see her need for comfort,
under her tired eyes dark shadows of sleepiness
lay curled like a depressed mongrel,
yet another duel she had with that nincompoop
she calls her husband, all through last night;
a sudden pang he feels calls his wife
asks if she is fine, to ease his guilt that raises
its head like a snake from under the cover of grass.
"A housewife has a thousand things to do, why don't you
find a buxom colleague to flirt, if that is the need"
she banters and teases him on his illogical concerns.
Through the glass parting he discreetly watches her face
heard a murmur arising inside,"the ***** plans the next move"
panicked he tried to concentrate on the screen
that looked frightening, the deadline getting nearer and nearer
by each hour, he heard the heavy foot fall
at that moment he heard a thud, as if something fell down
everyone was running towards her workstation.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
HE always gets the higher rank,
Not just HIM but any
Of the fall soldiers.
What do they fulfill,
That you are missing,
Are you troubled behind closed doors?
You have a youth of your very own,
Standing right here,
Tacitly craving just a loving expression.
You wound me when you advise tactfully,
that I should vacate,
So you and your vernal pibe,
Can take in abortive entertainment.
Little did I know,
Lounging in the same environs,
Was a taboo in the posh palace.
I would reflect,
Reimagine & rationalize.
If you neglect to
You may find a solitary soul.
My heart hopes for the highest,
But days past tell me otherwise.
Humans argue, fuss and struggle,
But those who,
Value and treat unconditional loves,
Warmheartedly get the real pleasure.
If I ride off from this declining,
Tormenting cliff, like a lost knight,
Know why.
&
When things get distressing,
Maybe then you will understand.
Love & Art,
Offspring
1991-20??
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
Providing evidence to myself
I sense boredom
As adventure
But solution to a rusty bolt
Without smeared oil
While unearthing self
Before boredom detects you
In the vicinity
The environs speaks
Actions are no curiosity
To be nosy
While others exist with their dealings
A character brings passe'
To detect
But not evaluate
The boredom
Which leads to nowhere
How can a heart stop pulsating?
Only to have no charge
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
Oh, Kitsune! You hit me like a tsumani.
Beautiful just like origami. So Intricate and unique
So this is how it feels to have a heart beat?
Every morning feels like a new day.
I'm so glad something can make me feel this way.
All that pain taken out by the tide,
I think without you I just might have died.
Internally as the stife rides high.
Cerebelum is reverberating all the environs.
Radiating as if emotions where ions.
Then the universe brought me a small little fox.
All packed up neat in a digital box.
And soon I get to open the gift.
And maybe feel a feeling I really missed.
So thank you kitsune, you make it alright.
Just a sneaky fox stealing my heart in the night.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
I am a certified expert in the sequential pushing of buttons,
this pushing performed, on a good day, in concert with the
expensively purchased, somewhat rare mental model of
the workings of a recently commonplace variety of machine
dependent at its core on the minuscule presence of increasingly-rare
earth metals allowing for the conditional flow of groups of electrons.
These machines, like their precursors, are further dependent on
the supply of slightly less increasingly rare combustible material
for which armed conflicts are routinely fought and many have died.
My interest in the machines began at an early age,
enticed by the illusion of control, and on the whole,
I think, motivated by the idea that these machines
processing information, the core mechanism of reality,
might be used to create understanding.
In the interceding years, it is increasingly apparent to me
that while some are used for this purpose, most,
like most things around me, are controlled and engaged by
multi-personed organisms concerned primarily with:
1) self-preservation AND
2) the collection of, and limited divestment of,
unit notions of rarefied value, insured by the
existence of another similar organism valued for its
1) self- and nearby-environs preservation AND
2) recent track record of insuring continued relatively easy access
to the aforementioned important combustible materials.
—it is generally considered to people's credit that this notion
of value is thus-derived and no longer as frequently derived by virtue
of possessing a metal which, while of certain non-combustible use,
is basically just pretty rare and really, really shiny.
I find myself again shortly in a need of convincing such an organism
that my button pushing is of sufficient quality,
on sufficiently frequent good days,
that it should consider me a temporary part thereof and divest,
of itself to me, sufficient units of value that I might happily
continue to push buttons on its behalf in the pursuit of further units.
I am, for some reason, somewhat less than thrilled with this prospect
finding it, despite its marketability, a maybe less than important enterprise.
I am existentially concerned by the idea that my whole value may derive
from my button pushing, and is thus further dependent on
the availability of rare-earth metal and also-rare combustibles.
In some delusion of importance amongst 7 billion plus similar primates
and a unfathomably vast universe,
I thought you might be interested to know
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
My beloved angel
One with
Radiant hazel eyes
Chatoyant like clusters
Of stars
On a moonless night
My beloved angel
One with
A warm sultry smile
As to tempt wary kissers
Commit mischief
My beloved angel
One with
A pristine voice
So fresh
As to wake the dead
From their desolate
Silent graves
My beloved angel
One with a vivacious voice
So euphonious
As to elicit
The descent of angels
Down unto earth
My beloved angel
One with
A melodious voice
So harmonious
As to leave one
In a daze
Just mesmerized
Whilst stars scintillate
Athwart velvet skies
My beloved angel
One with
A dimpled cheek
Giving way for onlookers
As to be hypnotized
Whilst stars scintillate
Athwart velvet skies
My beloved angel
One with
Bona fide pulchritude
Which brings about
Myriads of creatures
From across all environs
Surrounding her
Gravitate towards her
As to crave
Such a ravishing queen
My beloved angel
One whose
Exuberant personality
Had me thrilled to bits
Vanished like whispers
In the wind
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Tinderbox pt.1—Magic
At first,
I caught its eye
In the rolling smoke of fire
I ****** my hands
To pull it out
And speak with lighted words,
In light of brilliance,
A vital warmth,
But in the end just ashes.
And then,
The curve of silk waters
Which rushed upon and through the rocks
Wrote to me
A rich and liquid poetry
Not in bursts but subtle waves
I cupped my hands to catch its words,
But even then,
I could only hold so much
And only for so long.
Tinderbox pt. 2—the Artist
Entranced in the world
Here and beneath the moment,
In the spaces and each letter
I saw the fire, the waves of silk
Each play in their environs,
I’d grieve
At their perfection,
Running my eyes over their hilly peaks
And dreaming mine had been there.
My worlds were ugly, incomplete
Extinguished at very moment
That the two would meet
The tinderbox was fire to my hands,
My cup was rife with holes
And there, I’d thought the artist dead
Or never even alive.
In my sleep I’d hear a voice
Like Milton, Coleridge, or Shelley
A babble arresting and forcing pity
From its infantile lucidity...
I knew this thing, but killed it.
Perhaps even now, I believe in magic
Though, to pluck rain from a furied storm
Or converse with tiny sparks
That become
Something of brilliance and solemn silk
That groves were wrought from tiny seeds
Long after mere chaos
That, from it, comes a universe
and white paper is all it needs.
What awoke me was not
That there was art
But that the words had tried to say something,
Something the heart could not speak
Nor the mind would dare to reason;
It was not as much the words that made it up
But the worlds in between them.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
H ow is it possible to have so much hate
A midst all of those that I’m ordered to love.
T orn by the need to stay here and fight-
R eeling from weakness I thought I’d outlived,
E dging towards a fall I must stop, I’m
D odging the arrows, to keep keeping on.
F rightened that I’m not as young or as smart,
O lder than I ought to be at my age, I’m
R emembering when I wielded weapons of youth.
M y armies of wit were were invincible then,
Y et now only shadows of warriors past.
E nemies bumping the sore spots they caused me, with
N ever a thought or respect for my toil, I
E nvy their callous neglect of my pain and
M emorize odes to the loathing I feel.
I light bonfires of hatred and hope not to get burned
E scaping through tunnels of madness and fear into
S afer environs where I can breathe free.
ljm
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
Current events are conducive
with nonchalant seeming pace
When future springs surprises
with time I will learn to face
Cheery is current subsistence
and freewill so far I propound
Confines once start stifling
I may break newer ground
Perceptive mind is still active
infinite inspirations all about
If my illusions start dissipating
new pastures I would scout
Resources are just adequate
for me to earn daily bread
In days of desolate penury
will take what fate’s spread
Traversed I have distances
to seek serenity for my mind
Treks in future if improbable
then peace within I will find
Environs are lush and verdant
their magic for one to behold
As autumn spreads it’s magic
with different shades of gold
Realism is a confusing passage,
through many an abyss and ridge
Each nuance to be vied aptly
while coming to cross any bridge
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
As we wander through the dunes rhythm,
The blistering sun jaunts across,
Exhibiting the elegance of the sanguine sands,
A ravishing roots of colours,
Whirling on the Sahara,
The beautiful blue skies,
Their true reflection,
With delight we trail from audaghust to the inlands,
In a waddling gait,
The heavy luggages on humps,
Are the loads of luxury bade by kumbi saleh,
The camels and jockeys pride themselves in it flamboyant environs,
And our thobes and keffiyeh makes merry,
In the breeze of sacred grove trees,
Mesmerizing the aesthetics of Arab architecture,
Treking through the routes of Tjilmasa to Tehrent,
In the comfort of the oases,
Replenishing our thirst and fatigue,
With benevolent breeze from palms and peaches,
Glancing at the magnificent mirages pearls,
We sight the atlas mountains,
And its Maghreb,
Caravan
A Poem Written By,
Historian E.Lexano
©March 8,2015
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
Love's vine stems from the heart;
it is ivy creeping through iron gates.
Wanders free through stony soil,
rushing stream, and bank.
It can loiter in the garden,
and fall victim to the spring rain.
But do not despair, my dear,
for its passion is like a flame:
Forever burning in its tendrils,
its coiled roots and leaves;
survives environs menace,
summer's blaze, and winter's freeze.
Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 11:51 AM UTC
<p><p>Les environs magnifiques de Squaw Valley .les détails classiques avec une touche rustique par Summit Soiree.jeunes mariés tiré à quatre épingles et Virgile Bunao faire ce qu'il fait le mieux ;prendre un beau cliché après l'autre .Ce mariage va tirer droit vers le haut de votre liste de favoris .je vous le garantis .Voir beaucoup plus ici .\u003cp\u003ePartager cette superbe galerie ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsOudoorStylesAl Fresque <p>C'était un régal pour capturer Sarah et la session d'engagement de Daniel pendant Thanksgiving 2012 à Charleston .Le temps était maintenant en train de refroidir et de s'installer de l'apogée de la chaleur fou nous avons tendance à obtenir ici .mais qui ne les empêche pas de regarder si frais et si dans l'amour .Je comptais les jours avant leur mariage <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-dhonneur-c-60"><b>robe de demoiselle d'honneur</b></a> .à photographiez des scènes qui ont eu lieu .Je ne savais pas comment époustouflé je serais au milieu de ces montagnes .Lake Tahoe est un endroit magnifique et la joie de leurs familles et l'excitation Sarah et Daniel présentait à chaque fois mon appareil photo et j'ai regardé les faits Squaw Valley incroyablement picturesque.Being si élevé .chaque centimètre de cet endroit avait une lueur intense .Tout brillait .Sarah brillait .Daniel brillait .La verdure brillait .Lors de la cérémonie .la petite niche dans les bois .nous étions à eu un peu de lumière magnifique .À ce moment .il était clair que je devais laisser à Sarah .Daniel .leurs invités .et le soleil de faire toute cette journée mémorable .Ils ont fait Photographie <p>: Virgil Bunao | planification de l'événement: . Sommet Soiree | Robe <b>robe de demoiselle d honneur pas cher</b> de mariage: Monique Lhuillier | Cérémonie Lieu: Plump Jack Inn | Réception Lieu: Plump Jack Inn | Restauration : Plump Jack InnMonique Lhuillier est un membre de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici .Virgile Bunao photographie est <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-dhonneur-pas-cher-c-20"><b>robe de demoiselle d honneur pas cher</b></a> un membre de notre Little Black Book .Découvrez comment les membres sont choisis <p><a href="http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2423" target="_blank"><img width="240" height="320" src="http://188.138.88.219/images_ld/td//t35/product_thumb/1/4187435353535_396606.jpg"></a></p> en visitant notre page de FAQ .Virgile Bunao Photographie voir le</p>
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
XII. On the same.
I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs
By the known rules of antient libertie,
When strait a barbarous noise environs me
Of Owles and Cuckoes, ***** Apes and Doggs.
As when those Hinds that were transform’d to Froggs
Raild at Latona’s twin-born progenie
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee.
But this is got by casting Pearl to Hoggs;
That bawle for freedom in their senceless mood,
And still revolt when truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry libertie;
For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they roave we see
For all this wast of wealth, and loss of blood.
1.4k
an instant coffee poem scribbled
on the back of an iPhone, and mailed
to the motley crew hanging in these
environs
my request, your bequest
<>
never had an article of clothes
that required a hem to be tailored,
but you my daredevil darlings,
bring me now
you & yours,
a hem of thy choicest choosing
that I may taste your dew,
this and thus
enlivened,
I will love you,
far more than forever,
beyond my overwhelming
incarcerated capacity
to absorb,
but to exist and seize
the dew of your souls,
each an adrenaline ephedrine
shot to our mutualized brain
~
our soul’s temporal abode
the meaning plain!
you too
will forever be
within
the unlimited scope of this script
on the universe of the internet,
far longer than any intimate moment
we could share ,
a sensory
beyond the physicall
I beg you
please!
9:19 am
Thurs Sept. 12
two thousand and twenty four
Sep 12, 2024
Sep 12, 2024 at 9:24 AM UTC
By Elizabeth & Arcassin
**by the gurgling stream
he fell into a deep dream
of a beautiful girl who
had eyes so pretty of gleam
how she did make
his heart sang with delight
as her image reflected
in the stream's
bright crystal light,**
What's darkest may come to light,
Fly from graduation or tutors,
Hurricanes ruin cities,
Mixed with high jackers,
Free loaders,
But in the dark,
Run to the light,
Trauma stricken,
In the foreseeable future we need to fight,
**the dreamer's perception
of beauty is wiped out
in the environs so broken
and torn horribly about
the shadowed lamp
of fantasy which offers unto
us the mired mirror
of malcontent which is
in this our abysmal society,**
If you come to a conclusion,
And have sense to maintain the illusion,
You can make it a reality,
Also to institutions,
Beautiful stages of goals to be made,
Grow a flower,
Open a door,
Influence the shade,
**we are capable of making
change
our purpose is to
bringing into existence
the mind of the dreamer
his purpose is to see
that by all humans
working together
they can solve the ills and inequities
which plague our earth,**
Success runs through the heart of people that are determined,
Trial and tribulations are sold separately,
Achieve,
Believe,
And don't a servant,
To people that don't wanna see you,
Give and succeed,
Your dreams.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Our new boss is a fabulous woman
She takes the time to talk with the staff
The boss before her was a nasty man
Our work environs were as rough as chaff
Everyone is far happier with the lady boss
She listens to all our work place issues
We have lucked it for a caring boss
The department no longer needs tissues
Since they sacked that most unbearable ***
There is a good feel at our work station
Stress leave has been reduced quite a bit
All staff members are full of elation
Our new lady boss is a work place delight
We're so pleased to have her, too right!
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
On
Days
Like this
When the deep blue skies
Shed their clouds
And made love to the horizons
Shall
We lay
On bedrocks
And lash our feet
Into plunge pools
And
Watch
Vuluptuous waterfalls
Walk elegantly down rocky staircases
And
Make
Mockery
Of the blue pants
The waters wore
There
The thunders
Will leer through the skies
And try to catch a glimpse
Of our foul acts
And
Even become
A parodist of her cuddly winks
And
There again
Become a beggary
Of my artistry,when I wove her eyebrows
With flowers
Moments
Like this,the rainbows stun with brilliance
And the umbra and penumbra
Will glare resentfully
Then
She will
Treasure me
All her secrets,dreams and fears
On the ***** of my tongue
I
Remember clearly
Like the romance played
By the moons at mars
When she said"without you,its hard to survive"and blush
And
I had tell her
All the tales of love from Adam
Yet
How sad!
When time gulp
Beautiful memories in haste
Like a drunkard
I had died six times
Till she came and breath life
Into me one more time
Yet
Today,I wobbled solo
To these environs like a jittered cheetath
Truly,I had been cheater
O,
How I wish
I can wash her off me
Her touches,her tastes and her smells
But someway I'm cowed
I might drown,and lose all hopes
Of beholding her sight one more time
I
Have no peace
And all prayers
For solace suspend
Beneath impervious clouds
Now and then
Will I starve silly
At motile moons and stars
With a little hope of her sight one more time
I'm caged in her absence,yet I lay in no cage
Am wholly buried yet I lay in no pit
Cheats
©Historian E.Lexano
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
No good
Comes from deeds
Gone unpunished
I do my best
You snark my shark
Infested waters
Come cuddle with my menace
Marry our fortunes
Tipple with buds
Then orchids adapt
To environs made men
Advertisement fulfilled
I ask my friend why compete
He answers the mothers must win
Tight ******** fight the bill
Cheap advice: Stop hurting her
Give your daughter everything
My only worry concerns
What will be left for her?
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
returning from a social meeting
lightly stepping on a deserted street
there is no streetlight to guide my feet
though bundled up tight for a cold night
my face feels the crispy wind is making the skin flake
as an intense blowing shear takes a bite
wasn't this the short cut i used to take
i tell myself there is nothing to fear
but my monkey mind is pumping hard
asking how i got here
a winged shadow appeared when i stopped
i nearly peed my pants doing a side step dance
but reason held out as it was just a concrete molding
in the moon's trance
from a building on the right - up top
i hear a single, solitary, solo drum in the distance
maybe someone to help identify my last mindless turn
lightly stepping on this deserted street
attention is paid to the increasing beat
is the brain asking for faster feet
then when i focus
it's my own **** heartbeat
i tell myself there is nothing to fear
but my monkey mind is amping and freaking
asking how i got here
a dislogded, free minded, loudly rolling can
rattled my lunch
breathe breathe breathe
follow that black and grey two toned cat
surely it has a hunch
three echoing shots
followed by a gut level scream
now i am completely locked in
is this a dream
to reconnect and find my way home
i vow to never ever again
forget my phone
it seems much colder
as i turn another corner
following the sounds of the sirens
i tell myself there is nothing to fear
but my monkey mind is hurting now
asking where are these environs
blood was everywhere
the street, the windows, the walls
first responders were in slow motion
but at least they answered the call
i tell myself there is nothing to fear
but my monkey mind is out of control
asking how i got here
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
- at the riddle...
Ezekial 17- the chapparal around me
I feel laughing,
We have had a wet October, the elven forest
and all its winter resting creatures,
feels laughing happy today,
as I mind fly over the old trail,
marked clearly, once you see the sign,
The Trail Less Travelled By -
you can see it, from Google Earth eyes,
if you know where to look,
but you can't feel this from there.
My forest, in these environs, is
called elven, due to lowly stature,
- no majestic trees here
my forest is wild, no trails not leading
to water, eventually, if you head downhill;
My forest,
if you will, allows us to see it extends
to Arizona, across the watered desert,
strange
there is no horizo, no line marking mine.
But desert coyotes come here to harvest
sweet-sour fruit
of little, red manzanita
loaded with wee tiny apples,
which coyotes eat, but barely chew.
- maybe we could package these//
It may be like that delicacy coffee,
roasted after being goat shat.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
What's it like when you live with your soul
exposed bare each and every day,
surrounded by betrayal and deceit,
you cannot help being yourself.
Everyday you're let down by some,
lied to by some,
yet you give them your only weapon,
your only defense-
yourself-
your clean, unadulterated self,
that fails to fake, fails to hide,
that reveals its true colors
no matter how hard it tries.
You know they're not real,
and you think to yourself that you
do not care, you'll forget,
even if you don't forgive,
yet indifference is a lesson,
someone like you will never learn-
can never learn.
Because you keep your soul
exposed to the environs of this ***** ***** world,
Your soul is beautiful, it is crystal
inspite of breathing in this tainted, tainted air,
So, even though your truthfulness,
your blatant genuineness exasperates you yourself,
be proud that you are who you are,
because the real ones,
the misunderstood, the outspoken, the clumsy ones,
are the best there can ever be.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
To the west of Mulranny,
Past Spanish Point.
Where dark, dark Minaun,
Cast's her cold shadow.
There is a fast sound,
Dangerous as a true sin
As many a Navy man Royal found
And many a clever islander too.
And the land runs,
down to her gently.
It glides, as if a sea bird
down to the shallow sound,
From both sides,
right, then left
Giving somewhat -
the impression of a cosy valley.
With warm homesteads close-by,
together at dusk
But they are seperate, in truth
by land, long and strewn
Many many miles
hard walking.
By sea, a ten minute walk
would suffice;
But no-one would
ever talk of such a stroll,
For they would never tell
of anything
Again.
However deft
However brave
For the sound takes
What it owns.
One evening, I drove to the right of her,
And the red Oche sun painted for me
Scenes on the hills,
Great battles history -
Wars of celtic gods, christian saints
And the old Gods before people
And the God's older still
Who have no names anymore.
But bear all on their backs
This land is, in truth, those Gods' land.
It changes with each ray of light
That passes this way through the
broad deep ocean,
green and milk topped
fresh as a breeze
blowing through a green arbour
Or black as terror , with white cresendo
Black rocks shot with reds and quartz's
Sharpened by water
It is not a place for faint of heart
Or unsure of foot
And at Achill beg can be seen
Man's footprint,
long here
Strange barrows,
and dry walls
That deep time
has made anonymous
To the prying eyes
of modern time
But past 8,000 years
have our people
Lived in this place,
guarded, hounded
By the Atlantics' cruel force
And I swear
if I had freedom to choose
a place to live,
without concern
And a place to die,
without worry
It would
Be here.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Hello!
Does the inner voice respond?
Not paid much attention to…
Drowned among the noisy environs
Trampled, when it tried to speak
Did you say a hello lately?
Or, aware, it exists…
Give it a chance to speak
And listen to what it has to say
Say a ‘hello’ when you get some time…
Maybe it’s worth a listen
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
On
Days
Like this
When the deep blue skies
Shed their clouds
And made love to the horizons
Shall
We lay
On bedrocks
And lash our feet
Into plunge pools
And
Watch
Vuluptuous waterfalls
Walk elegantly down rocky staircases
And
Make
Mockery
Of the blue pants
The waters wore
There
The thunders
Will leer through the skies
And try to catch a glimpse
Of our foul acts
And
Even become
A parodist of her cuddly winks
And
There again
Become a beggary
Of my artistry,when I wove her eyebrows
With flowers
Moments
Like this,the rainbows stun with brilliance
And the umbra and penumbra
Will glare resentfully
Then
She will
Treasure me
All her secrets,dreams and fears
On the ***** of my tongue
I
Remember clearly
Like the romance played
By the moons at mars
When she said"without you,its hard to survive"and blush
And
I had tell her
All the tales of love from Adam
Yet
How sad!
When time gulp
Beautiful memories in haste
Like a drunkard
I had died six times
Till she came and breath life
Into me one more time
Yet
Today,I wobbled solo
To these environs like a jittered cheetath
Truly,I had cheated
O,
How I wish
I can wash her off me
Her touches,her tastes and her smells
But someway I'm cowed
I might drown,and lose all hopes
Of beholding her sight one more time
I
Have no peace
And all prayers
For solace suspend
Beneath impervious clouds
Now and then
Will I starve silly
At motile moons and stars
With a little hope of her sight one more time
I'm caged in her absence,yet I lay in no cage
Am wholly buried yet I lay in no pit
Cheats
©Historian E.Lexano
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC